It was a beautiful day, but Lucilla was troubled. How could she not be? Everyone was pretending everything was alright, going about their business, talking a lot about the weather, people's children, whether they'd seen the game last night. Nobody was that interested in other people's children. They were boring. Things weren't alright.

She hated the façade.

You see, it was only a beautiful day here, not elsewhere in the province, and even then Lucilla could see dark clouds coming in over the horizon to the east. Times were difficult, damn near end-of-worldy feeling; a pressure hung over the heads of the people as they went about their buying and trading and small talking here at the city market. She could almost feel her ears popping from it. This place should be loud. Deafeningly so - a drowning buzz of mixed voices yelling at each other, haggling, and decidedly not talking about the weather. Or people's children.

But the citizens of Leodomum were unusually reserved.

She clicked her tongue, staring blankly into a pile of ruby-red apples, and hooked a thumb into the thick sword belt that wrapped around her leather vest, which itself flared out to a ring of leather feathers flapping in the breeze about her shoulders and waist. Her magically enchanted gladius, the Sword of the Mountains, felt comforting at her hip, like a familiar bodyguard or overbearing father, always protecting her.

In times past the sixteen year old daughter of the provincial Dominus would not be permitted to carry weapons into the city forum, where the market took place. To be honest, no sixteen year old, nobility or otherwise, should have been allowed to so obviously bear such arms. The city's council - the Monitors - thought teenagers were too unpredictable to carry weapons. Hah, but not so unpredictable as to be allowed to join the military and just go carry them there. Like Lucilla's older brother. But that didn't seem to matter anymore. The laws hadn't changed, nobody openly acknowledged a difference, but these days just about everybody concealed something they could stab a guy with somewhere about their person.

Monitor Rex - Uncle Rex - was with her, and that was a dear comfort. He was big and old, which people seemed to like. He had that bear quality that screamed "I give great hugs", but also that hard quality that adds "...which could pop you like a wet balloon". The old general was a good companion, and a firm friend.

"Well," he said smiling, looming over her, "are you going to buy one or just stare at them all day?"

Lucilla scowled. She finally clicked as to what was bothering her about them. "Why are they so expensive today?"

The stall holder, a peasant's peasant, balding up top while growing wolfily hairy everywhere else, grinned nervously. "Th- they's imported, yer grace. F- fresh, though! Teleported, not hauled o'erland."

"Imported? Cassius I thought you bought your apples from farms here in the Southerlands? In fact I distinctly remember my father and I talking to you about that very subject."

A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder. Her body buckled slightly under the weight. "It's been another season of crop failures," said Rex, big square face going a little dark. "There's not enough to go around."

Cassius the stallholder grinned again. "Aye, thassaone. Droughts an' plagues killed the crops o' all me suppliers aroun' these parts, yer grace, an' me aunt's cousin says floodin's done in half the farms out west. I woulda bought fruit from the east but that forest fire's spreadin' now without the rain an' I think it'll all taste o' smoke. Can't sell smoked apples, can I?" Then he thought for a moment, his brow furrowing. "Well, maybe I can. Would you buy smoked apples, yer grace?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Probably not."

"No, didn't think so. Ah well, I gots a supply comin' in from up north near the Barricade, but it's a slow beast, yer grace. Need a lot o' soldiers to guard it these days, on account o' the raids. Whole place is fallin' apart if ye arsk me."

Lucilla clicked her tongue again, face still crinkled with thought. How could an entire province's worth of crops suffer at the same time? This must surely have been unprecedented. "Well, I'm sorry to hear it's so hard for you, Cass. I'll take ten of what you have today if it'll help support you."

"Ooooh thank ye, yer grace, thank ye kindly!"

And so they moved on.

* * *

Jendar stood stoic at the centre of the market, letting it flow around him.

He moved very little. Sometimes not at all. A few passers by mistook him for a statue, gawking as they walked past believing him a carving of some important big-wig that they didn't recognise. They all flinched wildly when his helmed head finally rotated in their direction. One particularly startled old lady hurled a curse that involved a lot more flayed skin than one would have expected from her grandmotherly face.

But on he stood. Stoic Jendar.

He didn't quite know why he was here. He didn't have any reason to go elsewhere. Jendar had wandered for some time, and this is where he wound up. Now he kept watch, slowly scanning the market, ever vigilant. Ever the statue. But scanning for what? That he hadn't worked out yet. Something brought him here, he could sense it. But he didn't know what it was. He came anyway. Pulled. Uncertain. Lost, some would say.

So he remained stoic, this fully plated tank of a man, seven feet tall, standing in the middle of a crowd of civilians with a heavy flanged mace, scuffed, held in one gauntlet and the other curled into a loose fist. A sword at his hip. Big square shield on his back. Angular plate armour dented, scratched, tired; barnacled with all manner of gemstone and arcane inscription. Face a mask of dark slits, swept up into wings either side of his head. One of them broken.

Waiting.

For something.

Stoically.

* * *

Lucilla and Rex wandered, stall to stall. She bought a few more things, gifts she thought the palace cook might like, and she handed out her apples to a few of the beggars around the edges of the forum. There were more and more everyday, a constant stream coming in from the rest of the province. Rex and the other Monitors urged her to ignore their pleas, or to encourage them to go offer themselves up as labourers and the like to get them off the street - but they all said the same thing: "Wot labour?" There wasn't enough work to go around. Not here in Leodomum. Not with so many new bodies coming in all the time. The city was a bubbling cauldron. It was bound to overflow.

She was just thinking of leaving for the day and returning to the palace when she saw a shadow move through the crowd at the corner of her eye: a hooded figure, hands in pockets, exuding that "I'm definitely one-hundred percent innocent" sort of attitude. He looked like he was trying too hard to appear normal: casual stroll, looking up, down, whistling a bit, big wide steps. Lucilla swore she heard him say, "Don't mind me," to a stranger. Only stage actors walked that way. Stage actors and...

She elbowed Uncle Rex and nodded in the man's direction. The figure flowed through the crowd like a slippery snake, weaving from stall to stall but stopping nowhere. He doubled back to the same stall more than once even in the short time Lucilla was observing. He didn't appear to have any particular destination in mind.

Uncle Rex narrowed his eyes. "What am I looking at?"

Lucilla wasn't so sure. A sixth sense tingled up her spine into the back of her mind. An alarm bell rang somewhere in her bones.

Rex must have realised who she was staring at. "Lucilla," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder again. This time it was a warning. "You know what your father said about getting involved in things. Please, not again."

Her face crinkled again.

"Lucilla, perhaps let's stop and thi-"

"There!" she suddenly said, pointing now. "Did you see that? He just pocketed something from Bella's stall."

"I didn't see anything."

"He definitely nabbed something. While Bella was distracted by that dwarf."

"Tell the Vigiles, then." Vigiles - the city watch.

"They're nowhere close. I'm going after him. Quick, before we lose him!"

At that she began moving, not too fast, nothing that would draw attention to herself. But she slipped as quickly as she dared into the crowd, cautiously pursuing. She didn't want him to bolt, not yet. Not until she was closer. Well, preferably not at all but you know how these things are.

Behind her Uncle Rex swore, but he didn't follow. He seemed to move in a different direction, perhaps to go fetch a watchman. She hoped. That was no use right now, though. By the time they organised, the thief could be long gone - vanished into the shadows. There weren't enough watchmen, either. Not enough of anything. But Bella's enchanted jewellery took her days, sometimes weeks or even months to make. It was quite expensive. The theft of even one item, at a time like this?

No. Lucilla chastised herself - the value of the item was irrelevant. Theft is theft.

She sneered.

Gripped the hilt of her blade.

And gave chase.

* * *

Jendar's eyes followed the movement, head rotating slowly as he stood in place. The Dominus' daughter - he had noticed her before (she and the Monitor's fine garments stood out quite starkly in this crowd) - was striding with purpose, cruising through the thronging crowd; a sleek boat, parting the waves calmly and quickly. Her face was dark. Determined. He traced her gaze. Was she following the hooded man? He did fit the stereotype of a criminal. Or was that unfair profiling? Wait, yes - there! The hooded man glanced about, checking his peripheral, noticing that he was being followed. His eyes briefly locked with the Dominus' daughter, widened, eyebrows lifting, mouth opening so very slightly. It was a face of surprise, worry. He began moving quicker.

So did she.

Jendar took a step.

Maybe this was why he was here.

The statue began to move.

* * *

"Stop, thief!!"

He'd noticed her and bolted, Lucilla immediately picking up speed and yelling at him. Not that she thought it'd work. Be weird if it did, to be honest.

The forum was essentially a giant square courtyard at the centre of an ornate two-level public building, the rooms of which were used for all manner of purpose - discussions, classes, meetings, sometimes even small performances. This courtyard was ringed by an ornate marble colonnade, which had four elaborately carved entrances (depicting various Valenian military victories in the Southerlands), one for each side of the square. The hooded thief now bolted helter-skelter for the north entrance, which would take him out into a series of quite narrow streets and alleys. Lucilla had to catch up, now, or he'd probably be gone for good.

"Move!" she yelled, shoving past people before they remotely had a chance to comply. "Out the way!"

She nearly tripped on a pale-skinned fairy whose bedraggled form Lucilla didn't see until she was basically trodding on him. That was probably going to be another complaint against her to the palace. She'd feel bad about it later. Now was for running.

If she kept following the path of the thief she'd never catch up, so Lucilla switched tact on the fly and decided to cut through some of the stalls - arrayed as they were into little streets and alleys of their own. An old man harking cooking utensils roared a curse at her as she hopped over his table and scattered a basket of wooden spoons to the dusty floor, then an elven woodcarver who made toys for children cheered her on, eyes bright with excitement. The things he suggested she do to the thief if she caught him would most definitely be illegal. She'd settle for just catching him and getting Bella's stolen jewellery back.

She repeated this a few more times, to mixed review, closing the gap between her and the thief. By the time he was in the arched entrance and gapping it out onto the street, she was just a few metres behind - and catching up.

Soon they were on the cobbled street, and she saw him dart immediately off the main road into a side alley. Clear now of the crushing throng of the market, Lucilla drew out the Sword of the Mountains and pushed herself on, practically skidding a ninety-degree turn to follow him into the alley. Her blade - a longer-style gladius tinged with blue, plunging into a hilt carved to look like a dragon's head swallowing the blade - glittered in the sunlight of the day, and served as a warning for anyone that might step into her path as she gave chase.

Beyond the alley the thief turned a sharp left, then veered once again off the road into another alley. Lucilla pursued, dogging his heels, not bothering to yell at him to stop anymore. He'd stop in his own time, and she'd be there. She heard yelling coming from behind, too. Vigiles or angry stallholders? Hard to tell. Hopefully Vigiles.

In the second alley, a snake of a thing that meandered purposelessly left then right, the thief tried to block her path by pulling over a stack of chicken crates. It was a pitiful blockade, and she hopped right over it. Crates broke apart and a few of the chickens made a break for freedom. They chose not to join the chase.

Next the thief burst out the other end chicken alley, ran across the street, and vanished into a third alley. Where was he going, or was it all random? She couldn't tell, but she was about to find out.

The third alley led straight into a small courtyard, surrounded on all sides by stacks of multi-family residences that rose as many as seven storeys each, blotting out the low sun to shade the dusty inner square. Here the thief stopped next to a small water fountain, hidden amid crowded washing lines and stacks of unwanted debris. Lucilla came to a sharp halt as she too entered the court, realising they were not alone - there were two other people here, a man and an elf, both with that thuggy kind of look about them. Sneering faces, scars, gnarled muscles, rough clothing. Although it was the swords in their hands that really betrayed them as thugs. They had been sitting around before the thief arrived. Now they stood.

Lucilla gripped her gleaming weapon tight and looked about the three faces now all staring back at her. The thief had gone red in the face and glistened with sweat, but he was stationary now and had dropped his attitude of fear - his chest puffed out, shoulders back, cocky eyebrow raised, slight half-smile somewhat undermined by the wheezing from his spent lungs. He had gained new confidence now that he was here. They must all have known each other.

"Leading me through alleys back to your gang of thugs," she sneered. "Very original."

The thief snorted. "Says you who fell for it." Now she could see he was young, barely older than she, but much rougher around the edges. Leathery skin, missing teeth, hard expression.

"I'm here for the jewellery you stole." Bugger it, may as well keep them talking. Delay until the Vigiles arrived. Assuming they knew where to follow. This impulse decision wasn't looking so hot anymore. But Lucilla could always suck up her pride and flee if she had to.

She wouldn't.

But she could.

And that was important.

The thugs laughed at her. Maybe they had lives and families and backstories, but to Lucilla they were the enemy of peace - the enemy of Leodomum, the city she might one day lead. She had already assumed everything she wanted to know about these three. Maybe that was wrong - books and covers and all - but bugger 'em. These were rough men making the world rougher for everyone else. It made her so mad. Especially now that times were so tough on everyone.

"Hand it back and walk away and you won't be arrested," she said, trying to stay calm. She could feel her excitement building - not the happy kind, but the anxious kind. Her muscles grew tense, ready to spring. Her eyes followed every subtle movement, hyper alert. The two newcomers were spreading out, slowly getting on either side of her. She planted her feet, ready to defend herself. Although she did have other tricks up her sleeve - the Sword of the Mountains was enchanted for a reason.

"Ya know," said the young thief, grinning evilly with that ugly confidence of his, "I hear they's payin' top bounties for Valenian nobles up in the north."

Lucilla scowled. "We have a treaty with the Northerners. Good luck getting even a single coin. Why would they take the risk?"

They laughed at her and she felt her cheeks flare red without her consent.

"Typical Valenian. Everythin' so black and white, eh? No lovie, there's a right few raiders who'd pay handsomely for a lass like you. Treaty or no."

"Yeah well, good luck with that," she spat back. "A bunch of street slugs like you lot couldn't pull off a kidnapping like that even if you had all the time in the world, no watchmen on your heels, and a book of step-by-step instructions. Written in nice big letters too, to make it easy for you."

The thief scowled. "Now that's just rude, that is."

"That hurts my feelings," said another - the other human, a pudgy fellah, now off to her right.

"Don't listen to her, Max, you can read just fine," said the last one, the elf.

"I've bin takin' classes."

"And you're doing so well."

Lucilla blinked, crinkled her nose, then frowned. "W- no, screw your feelings. Give me back what you stole. Now."

The thief raised his hands. "Oop, the little princess is gettin' angry now, lads. Careful, she's got a big sword."

They laughed again. Now who was being rude? she thought to herself. Back-alley pricks. But before she could say anything to that effect, the thief's face went black, grin dropping away like melted fat.

"Enough o' this. Grab her."

And they sprang.